I was getting fat. Seriously fat. Couldn’t see the scales beneath me.
150kg. Time to see good ol’ Doctor Jenkins.
I sat down in front of him. I could tell he was examining the fat in my face.
“Doctor, look at the state of me. Is there any medication you can suggest?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“I’ll be referring you to a dentist.”
“But, why? There’s nothing wrong with my teeth.”
“Oh yes there is. The dentist will need to remove your sweet tooth.”
I went to see the doctor because of stomach pain.
As soon as I walked in, Doctor Jenkins sprang off his chair and announced: ‘You have stomach cancer.’
Astounded, I asked how he could know such a thing, and so quickly.
He answered: ‘It’s just a gut feeling.’
It was the big day. The one I’d been apprehending. Heart surgery. Damn. I’d had knee surgery before. The only fun thing about that was the crazy dreams on general anesthetic.
I was lying down in the operating theater. The operation was moments away.
Doctor Jenkins came into the room. He had a strange look on his face. The nurse asked him if everything was alright. That’s reassuring I thought. Just knock me out so I don’t have to witness this, please.
“No all’s not alright, I won’t be able to do the heart surgery.”
“But why not!?” The nurse and I simultaneously inquired.
“I’ve had a change of heart.”